My husband, Franklin, and his mother, Sharon, ganged up on me, trying to pressure me into quitting my million-dollar-a-year job as a top architect so I could become a full-time housewife dedicated to supporting his career.

I firmly refused. Holding a grudge, Franklin secretly stole my core design proposal for the city's new art museum and leaked it to a competitor, resulting in my public firing and humiliation before the entire company.

He thought he had me trapped. He and his mother gloated, declaring that my only value now was to be "Franklin's wife."

Looking at their ugly, triumphant faces, I smiled coldly and dialed my personal assistant.

Right then and there, I ordered, "Announce the termination of Franklin, a project manager at a subsidiary of the Sterling Group, for gross violation of professional ethics. Effective immediately."

Then, I added, "And have everything prepared. I will be assuming the role of CEO at headquarters tomorrow morning."

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1

"Ava, when are you going to finally submit your resignation?"

My husband, Franklin, confronted me the moment I stepped into our Manhattan penthouse, his face taut with anger.

His voice was a low growl of suppressed rage.

His mother, Sharon, followed close behind, her sharp eyes scanning me as if I were a stain on her pristine world.

She slammed my birth control pills onto the expensive marble table.

"That's right, Ava. Behind every successful man is a woman who knows how to sacrifice!"

"Your obsession with your career is destroying our marriage, and it's crushing my son's self-esteem!"

"I've found the best family doctor. He said that as soon as you stop taking these, we'll have a grandchild by next year!"

I rubbed my weary temples and swept past them, tossing my handbag onto the sofa.

"Franklin, we've talked about this a thousand times. I love my job."

"I'm at a critical point in my career, and I'm not about to give it up."

"As for children, can't we just let nature take its course? Why are you pushing me like this?"

My words were like a match to a powder keg.

He rushed over, snatched the architectural design award I had just won, and smashed it on the floor.

"Let nature take its course? We've been married for three years, Ava! And you're still not pregnant!"

"How dare you say that to me?"

"I'm telling you, this family needs a child!"

"I'm my mother's only son. It's your duty to give me an heir!"

His face was flushed, his handsome features twisted with rage.

"It's not like I can't support you! Is that little salary of yours so important?"

"Isn't my one-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar salary enough for you to live on?"

"Do you have to be out there, parading your success and making us a laughingstock?"

A bitter laugh almost escaped at his absurd, selfish logic.

"Franklin, I work for myself, not for you to support me."

"My work isn't about parading success. It's about fulfilling my own potential."

"Besides, I made the down payment on this penthouse. I paid for my Porsche in cash. And I cover most of our household expenses."

"Is your one-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar salary enough to maintain our current lifestyle?"

My words shattered his fragile ego.

At that, Sharon shot forward, screaming.

"What kind of attitude is that! You married Franklin, so everything you have belongs to him!"

"Everything you have belongs to this family!"

"So what if you earn a little money? You can't even have a child, yet you have the nerve to give my son attitude?"

"I'm telling you, you're resigning today, and that's final!"

"Otherwise, get out of this house!"

As she spoke, she lunged for my phone, as if ready to type out my resignation email herself.

I sidestepped, dodging her grasp.

Looking at the two people who were supposed to be closest to me, who now looked like two greedy beasts, I felt suffocated.

A chill settled deep in my heart.

Franklin wasn't like this before we were married.

He would play the piano for me at Lincoln Center and whisper gently that he would always support my career and my dreams.

But after we got married, especially after my career took off and completely overshadowed his, everything changed.

He became sensitive, paranoid, and increasingly unable to tolerate the fact that I was more successful than him.

"Enough!"

Franklin grabbed his hysterical mother, his chilling gaze fixed on me.

"Ava, I'm giving you one last chance."

He spoke each word slowly, as if forcing them through his teeth.

"Resign voluntarily by this Friday."

"Otherwise, don't blame me for what I do next."

With that, he dragged the still-sputtering Sharon into the bedroom and slammed the door.

I was left alone in the living room.

Alone with the shattered, now-dull trophy on the floor.

So much for our love.

Fine. I was curious to see what he'd do.

For the next few days, a strange calm settled over the house.

Franklin and Sharon no longer mentioned my resignation, nor did they pressure me to stop taking my pills.

They even offered me smiles I hadn't seen in a long time.

Sharon prepared elaborate, exquisite meals every day, fussing over me with questions about my well-being.

Franklin started coming home from work earlier than usual to embrace me and even help with some chores.

But I knew that beneath this placid surface, a massive storm was brewing.

On Thursday afternoon, I was in my office, putting the final touches on the proposal for the city art museum's final bid.

This was the firm's most important project of the year, and I was in complete charge of it.

Franklin walked in carrying a latte, an obsequious smile on his face.

"Darling, you're working so hard. Have a latte and take a break."

He placed the coffee next to my hand, his gaze sweeping over my laptop screen as if by accident.

"Is this your design for the art museum? It looks like an absolutely stunning piece of work."

I instinctively moved the mouse, switching away from the half-rendered image of the core structure.

"Mm, it's almost done."

"Don't work too hard, baby."

He leaned down and kissed my cheek, but as he pulled away, his hand "trembled," and the entire latte spilled across my laptop.

"Oh, my God!" he exclaimed.

I shot up from my seat, while he made a great show of grabbing tissues and fumbling to clean up the mess.

"You go get some dry paper towels from the breakroom! I've got this!" he urged.

Alarm bells went off in my head, but I pretended to be anxious and hurried towards the breakroom. I stopped at the doorway, however, watching him in the reflection of the frosted glass.

I saw him sit down in my chair, making no effort to wipe the computer at all.

Instead, he quickly took out his own phone and, using the brief window of my unlocked screen, Airdropped an encrypted design folder to his device.

The entire process was seamless, taking less than thirty seconds.

He deftly deleted the transfer history, restored my screen to its previous state, and only then did he pick up a tissue and start nonchalantly wiping the desk.

My stomach plummeted.

So he really was plotting against me.

I immediately returned to my desk and carefully checked my computer, but I couldn't find anything out of the ordinary.

No files had been moved, and there were no strange transfer logs.

What on earth was he planning to do?

A deep sense of unease washed over me.

Before I could sort out my thoughts, the internal line rang.

It was the voice of the president's secretary, her tone grave.

"Ava, Mr. Davies would like to see you in his office immediately."

My heart hammered against my ribs.

The trap was about to spring.